Chicory morning, blue from the window,
red clover corners meet day-lily lines.
Finch-thistle thickets, brightest at midday,
uprightly scornful of shade-clinging vines.
Now doused in sun’s set, ablaze with fireflies,
clusters of asters are stars, or star-signs.
1 comment:
I am truly left awe-struck. You are one of the best poets of many generations. Every line is amazing.
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